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Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Jessamine

Self-conscious,
I smoothed my skirt. Despite my diet, I had gained some weight in the last few
weeks. I would either have to lose it or devote some of my hard-earned money to
buying cloth for new dresses.

“She in the
drawing room.” Malinda led the way downstairs.

I pushed open
the doors and went in. Mrs. Threlfall sat by one of the windows, Jocelyn in her
lap, and Victoria and Theodore at her feet. She said nothing as I walked toward
her, just stared at me with what looked like sharp surprise. The children
regarded me silently.

“Malinda said
you wanted to see me?” I prompted.

“Yes.” She
seemed to shake herself. “I did. Children, please leave.”

“Mother, we
won’t listen,” Victoria argued.

“You can come back
in a little while.”

“Do you
promise?”

Mrs. Threlfall
permitted the ghost of a smile. “I do.”

The children
filed out.

“Come,” she
said, waving me forward after they had closed the door. “Come closer.”

I closed the gap
between us, wondering what was the matter. I had thought she was going to
berate me for allowing Theodore to be stung, and I was prepared with my
response. Instead, she stared at me without speaking for what seemed like
hours.

“Is something
the matter, Mrs. Threlfall?” I shifted restlessly.

“Are you with
child, Miss Adams?”

With child. It
had never occurred to me but suddenly I realized it was true. Sally Ann, Aunt
Bell’s youngest daughter, was the apple of her eye and Aunt Bell had once
explained to me that this was because of how difficult her pregnancy with her
had been. She’d said that for the first few months she’d hardly been able to do
anything but lie abed as every task wearied her and every smell, particularly
those of meats and soap, threatened to upset her stomach.

I understood
immediately. “I do not believe you know him, Ma’am,” I answered, feeling sorry
for her.

Relief eased her
features. “Are you certain? You do not spare my feelings?” she asked, wanting
to be sure.

“No, Ma’am. I
mean, I am quite certain you do not know him. He is a businessman.”

She stared at me,
wide-eyed. “But how did you meet him? Does he come to church?”

“No, Ma’am. I…I
met him on the street that day I was in Wolverton by myself.” I was going to
mention that he was a friend of Father Watson’s but thought better of it.

“On the street.”
Her hand was at her throat. She watched me with equal parts horror and
fascination. “Do you plan to get married? You know you cannot continue here.”

“Of course. I
will leave.” I wanted one of those storm winds that they say sweeps across the
island every few years to suddenly come and spirit me away. My legs felt weak. Seeing
I was about to fall, Mrs. Threlfall jumped up and guided me to the sofa.

“How could you
do this, child? How could you? Alone in a strange land. Have you no sense at
all?” There was pity in her voice.

“It flies from
me when he is around. I love him, Ma’am.”

“And does he
love you?”

“Yes, he does.”

“You’ll get
married, then?” She nodded as though answering her own question. My queasiness
began to pass.

“You say he’s a
businessman?”

“He owns
buildings in Wolverton and has them rented out.” Leando had also told me of his
plans to buy a trading ship but I didn’t tell her this. He wanted to own a
fleet of them because he said he foresaw the day when St. Crescens would no
longer be able to feed itself; it was scarcely doing so now. Many of the
trading ships putting in at the island belonged to companies in England which
charged high prices. He thought there was an opportunity in it for him. His
ambition was one of the things I loved about him.

“Will you not
tell me who he is? Is it Charles Skerrit? That would be a wonderful match for
you, dear.” She peered questioningly at me but I shook my head.

She frowned,
puzzled. “I can’t think…oh, don’t tell me it’s that Osgood boy. What’s his
name? Henry. Is it him?” I shook my head again wishing she would give up this
game.

“That’s a
blessing, at least. The men of that family are wastrels. As long as you’re
satisfied, he must be of good quality. You have never struck me as overly
flighty.”

“He’s a good
man, Ma’am.”

“Perhaps…but a
bit impetuous, certainly.” She glanced at my stomach, and I colored, spreading
my hands over the small mound. A new life, a life we had made together. I
wondered if Leando would be happy. I thought, I hoped, he would.“My dear, the sooner you are married the
better. Mary Byde had quite the big belly when she married Francois. You will
find that we, here, do not frown on such happenings quite as people do in
England. In time, you will be invited to tea and people will make calls on you.
I will certainly call to see the latest addition to St. Crescens society.”

I choked on my
laughter but, when she looked at me, puzzled, I could not bring myself to tell
her who the father of my child was. I had neither the strength nor the courage
to be plain about my lover.

“Where can you
go until your wedding day?” She said this more to herself than to me. “Oh, I
know.” She snapped her fingers. “I will ask Aunt Bridget if she would allow you
to stay with her until the arrangements for your wedding are complete. She’s a
spinster and fairly free in her thinking. She travels to London all the time
and is the greatest friends with artists and writers and people of that stripe.
That’s the perfect solution. I’ll have Dodger take you. She lives in Wolverton.
You’ll be close to your friend, and he can visit you there without reproach.”

I
didn’t know what to say, she was being so kind. For the first time since our
conversation began I felt my eyes tear. Perhaps if the circumstances had been
different we could have been friends, this Creole woman and I. Then I thought
of Leando. I was behaving as though I were ashamed of him and of the love we
shared.

About Me

Hi! My latest book, Storm Warning, is now available from Amazon. I'm also the author of four novels, The Water of Sunlight, Jessamine, Dido's Prize, and Just an Affair, and of the non-fictional, From the Field to the Legislature: A History of Women in the Virgin Islands. A few of my short stories have been published in The Caribbean Writer and other regional publications. Shoot me an email at onealeugenia [at] gmail [dot] com